1. You have to decide whether they are total deal breakers. And only you can answer that one…

or

2. You look to your friends or colleagues or the community to fill your cup. And really that’s just as important in the mix of life as well.

…

The real issue is when you drop below the 50% mark and suddenly there’s more bad than good. That’s the ultimate deal breaker. When the bad consistently outweighs the good.

…

Why am I writing this?

Because sometimes I get filled with silly fears and an urge to leave snippets of sage advice for the kids to make life-mattering decisions. I’ve considered Post-it notes on the fridge but somehow they don’t have the same sense of gravitas.

I have written (what I wickedly call) an If I Die Book which totally freaks the family out but it’s basically a How To Guide for them to function if I drop off the perch. Behind their eye rolling I know it gives them secret comfort

I have no plans to do any of the above. Just think of this as a Post-it note for life. Maybe we could create a new category here lol. Take from it what you will. Now go and find yourselves some spark. And feel free to add to your own thoughts on the subject.

Aunty Marg

xx

P.S. Steve has just read this and reminded me that there are exceptions to my theory and that I am very lucky to live with one. God love ‘im.

“Keep an eye out on the road to Punakha, they might be roasting corn,” she calls out as we’re leaving.

And as we drop down below the clouds – after a bone jarring couple of hours on a road scheduled to be finished later this year – there they are.

I love these moments, standing by the roadside, chatting away with the help of our guide, Penjo and driver, Wangchuk.

It’s Saturday and we get wind that the weekly food markets are on.

Bhutan is chilli central at the moment. Everywhere we go the roofs are covered in red chillies, drying in the sun.

The national dish is Ema Datchi, a wickedly hot dish of chillies and yak cheese, a little like feta.

I’m snapping away madly …

And the boys are busy negotiating a price for a whole sack. They’re so funny together.

I am dragged away and taken for a walk to a Madman’s Temple through rice fields a week or two away from harvest.

And then on to the mighty Punakha Dzong.

If I could I would take you inside but I can’t. No photos are allowed within the temples. There are 40 gold plated columns inside the innermost temple, embossed with thunder dragons. It stops us in our tracks. This is the emotional heart of Bhutan, the ancient capital.

Taking inspiration from a new friend I am trying to walk 2kms morning and evening.

I need some company so you’re just going to have to come with me.

I think you’d like Bathurst.

It’s got a little bit of everything.

And a community needs a little bit of everything, otherwise it’s at risk of finding itself gated and out of touch with the world.

A community needs different textures.

Some old and new. Some big and small. All living alongside each other. In an ideal world, all keeping an eye out for each other.

I got chatting to a local builder this morning about how it’s nice to walk in a town that has a grid system of streets. How you can wander any number of ways to and from your destination.

And he said “You wanna know Bathurst’s best kept secret?”

“Sure. Fire away.”

“Raglan.”

(Raglan is a suburb out near the airport. You pass it on your way in from Sydney.)

“Raglan?” I said trying to pull down my sceptical eyebrows.

“Raglan is a fantastic community. There’s a system of laneways running through it that I think date back to the old sani-carts. Anyway the kids are all out on their bikes and everyone knows everyone and if any of them gets out of line someone will growl at them and say ‘I’ll tell your old man.’ They have an annual cricket match – east versus west – worked out by which side of the central street you live on. It’s a great little community.”

“It sounds it,” I said, sceptical eyebrows packed away.

Old school. Cool.

The things you learn …

…

Moments later I was taking this shot of a little public laneway up the block and a man stood next to me and said “I’ve lived here three years and I never knew that was there.”

So which way shall we go? Shall we take a secret path? Or turn left or right?